Word Of The Day
by ZilaAssanaDyre
Summary: Axel doesn't believe in love. AT ALL/PERIOD. He had a rough childhood, which led to this fear of anything close to caring. But when Roxas reads the word of the day, Axel starts to feel...something. Rated M for Axel's potty mouth and sexual situations.
1. Forlorn

AXEL

I've always been able to get by with hardly a penny to my name, sometimes with no roof over my head. None of the necessities of life easily within a short walking distance to the fridge. I've sold _myself_ on the streets just to make enough money to buy a fucking loaf of bread and some watered down juice.

I can remember it like it was fucking yesterday, not by choice though. _Fuck_ no.

Thing's like that just happen to sear themselves into you're mind, whether you want them there or not.

I had been sleeping in a semi-large cardboard box I'd found while rooting around for food in the dumpster behind a Chinese place. Cardboard boxes by the way-? Are way more comfortable than you'd think.

Sure, you fucking loaded people out there cringe at the thought of living under some spider infested tree in some fucked up druggy park. Add on the daily gang raids we had and you could put a rug in front of my box that said 'Home Sweet Fucking Home.'

But besides that.

I was thirteen year's old and had been living in my penthouse box for about two months. I called it that because for one I actually had space to move around, and for another plus I had found a ripped -to-shreds tarp I had thrown on it. Which was very upper-class of me, because the rain only came in if it was pouring, hence penthouse a la bum.

For me, the last ditch effort was giving sexual favors to the damn pervert across the way. I had been able to locate places that had a steady stream of food in their garbage's, just waiting for me. But gradually I had been discovered rummaging in their dumpsters and had been 'politely' threatened.

I was without food for five days before I broke. Pretty goddamn good if I do say so myself.

The first day I arrived and claimed my place under the tree, the neighborly hobos of the park had come to greet me in the only way they knew how. They ransacked my box, grabbed every morsel of food they could, and said "Have a good fucking time here runt."

They never did it again, I figure it was just some homeless way of saying welcome to the neighborhood. Most fucked up way if I ever seen one.

So while they tore apart my crap, holier-than -fucking-thou Marluxia comes along. He had the gayest pink hair you'd ever seen, and seemed like he was commanding the group. He came up to me, shoved me over a truck of the tree, and put his foot right on my crotch.

"I own _you_ now," he said this with a hand flourish which only confirmed my fruitcake suspicions, "if you ever need _anything, _I'll help you out kid. For a price of course." He'd licked his lips, shoved away from me, and walked off.

I'd known that by giving in and letting him feed me, was losing. Which, in reality, it kind of was, because I just became his toy.

Every time I came and asked for food, he said he'd give me an appetizer while waiting for my meal. Yeah, he made me blowing him the appetizer. The first couple of times I just wanted to bite his fucking dick off, what with the condescending tone he used while I did it. But after awhile, it just became another survival tactic I had to resort to in order to live to my fourteenth birthday.

Whenever he crooned about what a good boy I was, I always thought it was a helluva lot better than where I'd been before. The reason I ran away and ended up in that shit hole of a place.

I hadn't always been a runaway kid on the streets. Once upon a fucking 'happy' time I'd had a home too. A warm and loving home, full of brothers and sisters who cared. I was the youngest of six, I had two other brothers and three sisters. Perfectly even.

My mom and dad had loved each other, and had been together for ten whole years before the shit hit the fan, and did it ever. When my mom found out my dad had been having an affair with the lady down the street-? Well that's when she snapped, later I found out she had been diagnosed as being a sociopath.

It started out with little tiny things. I (or one of my siblings) would accidentally spill some food on the ground, and she'd freak out about how we were slobs. Then it moved onto hitting us when we did this or other things; more yelling. And then she'd just hit us whenever it struck her fancy. My dad didn't do shit about it because, well, he was never around enough to give a fuck.

My mother had taken to beating me more than the others, I figured it was because I was the smallest and easiest to kick and brainwash.

She'd sexually abuse me, and only me. I guess the others didn't do shit about it cuz they were just damn relieved it wasn't them. Which I understand, but still, little fuckers they were.

She'd stick hot pokers on my skin in fascination, hit my head into the concrete till I blacked out, force me to eat the dogs shit. And numerous other fucked up things.

I still have panic attacks when people spill things, I'll just sort of seize up for a moment and start mumbling apologies, even if I didn't do it. I'll clean it up as fast as I can, and when I'm done, I'll act like nothing happened. Bitch engrained these things into my mind so much, they just won't fucking leave.

Once in awhile I'll have enough control to try and stop the impulse , just let it sit there. But eventually I'll break down and pick whatever it is up with the usual apologies.

But past my how my childhood has fucked up my adulthood (there'll be more of that later, I'm sure.)

When I was twelve and a half I realized I needed to just freaking _leave. _Leave by whatever means I had to. My mom had brainwashed me into believing our house was the best it could get, the only place I would be able to get, because no one gave a shit about little malnourished Axel down the street. So I took it into my own damn hands.

I probably would have never even thought escape was possible if it hadn't been for the movie my mom had been watching. My other siblings were allowed to sit and watch, while I had to face the wall and clean it…with rags.

It was some movie about a guy named Rome and his girl Jewels or something. They were in love and their fucked up parents wouldn't let them see each other, so they killed themselves, I think? To this day I think that's all a fucking **lie.** No one can fall in love and love someone so much they would kill themselves. It's just not goddamn possible.

For one thing, I don't believe love is real, much less that _true love_ bullshit they were spewing. People just care to much about themselves to truly give a flying rats ass about anyone else.

What people think is love, is actually lust. It's humans natural way to keep the species alive, by inputting in you the need to fuck any thing that gets in your way. People just like to call it 'love' because they feel like they're animals if they put themselves on the level of just total lust.

Now, you might have kids with this person you're in l(ust)ove with. And, amazingly enough, you'll find you actually do **care** about this life form that has your genes inside of it. That's the whole thing though, it has you inside of it.

From the earlier 'people love themselves' rant, you can see that they care for their kids-truly- because half of that kid is them. Until they realize that the kid has half of their partner in them as well. That's when you become conscious to the fact the child is not so great after all.

You call me a cynical bastard, that of which was brought on from years of being abused and not loved by my own parents? I call it common sense fuckers.

Anyfuckingways….about the commercial that made it clear as day that I needed to get away from that madhouse.

It was a commercial about animals who were abused, and a hotline to call to sell your soul away for some ugly ass pet you don't even know. Yeah animals, that of which I am not. But it wasn't them talking about animals that lead me to believe I could, _should, _flee. It was just a few words that helped me make my decision that night:

"Nothing, and no one, deserves any type of abuse. Human's don't warrant abusing their own, so why are animals so different? Call this number to contribute and…"

These words, said by a fat lady with a five o'clock shadow, made me realize I didn't have to live there. I deserved something much more than what I was being served in that place. My mom snorted and turned the channel mumbling that animals were useless and that were only put on the planet to be eaten by her. Fat ass words from a fat ass woman, very apt. Kind of ironic though, seeing as she owned a cat that lived like a king.

I started planning all the details of my getaway in a very precise manner in my head. From how I unearth food and water, to my shelter arrangements. But I've gotta admit, I was scared shitless. I wasn't scared because I was planning on venturing into a world I had hardly stepped foot into, thanks to the bitch.

I was afraid that she would find me somehow, no matter how far I ran. She would find me and shove my face into the wall and drag me back to the house, and the hell would start anew. Probably with even more vigor.

Even these day's, when I'm nineteen and I live in a pretty decent foster home, I still get worried she'll find me. Pretty silly, seeing as I'm probably a couple heads taller than her, and stronger too; though I don't look it. Still fucking thin as baby tree stem. What can I say, my body hates looking like it weighs over 100 pounds.

I was planning where I'd go when that woman walked by me and grabbed my red hair and smashed my face into the carpet. I didn't try to wriggle out of her grip, I knew better than that. Eventually she'd get bored.

I got my flaming red hair from my mom you know. Whenever I look in the mirror I get the insane urge to hack it all off and burn it all up, like it would make the past unreal or something. The only reason I haven't done it is so that I can look in the mirror and see that devil red hair. Really **see** it for what it really signifies.

To most it just signifies hair given in genetics from a parent, or even a shitty ass hair job. But to me it signifies life. It reminds me everyday how I got away from that bitch and managed to survive living on the streets for a year and a half without too many scars to show.

I've never, not once, cut the mass of fire on my noggin. Not even when the foster parents threw a fit, because why the hell would people wanna take some kid with crazy ass hair sticking in every direction? And they still tell me to this day that if I got a haircut when they'd asked me I would be in a family. Well fuck that shit, I don't want no fake ass family that'll pretend I'm the fruit of their loins when I'm not.

Just….No.

So when she finally got bored ,like I knew she would, she shunted me to the side and sauntered into the kitchen for more whiskey.

It took a few day's to formulate a good enough plan that would give me adequate time to slip past her radar, in order to escape. You would think she wouldn't give a fuck what I did, but goddamn she did. She watched me like a hawk because I was her **plaything**, she wanted to make sure I didn't get away with anything.

Now if my mom was anything, it was predictable. Everyday, without fail, it was the same routine. Wake up, get a shot of whiskey, shove the kids off to school(minus me because I didn't matter, and I was the slave.) Throw me around for a few hours, watch mindless soap opera shows while blubbering how her life sucked. **Her** life sucked? Fucking cow ,that one was.

But then she would go outside and smoke and sunbathe for close to two hours. Like it even mattered, her skin was white as hell(much like mine) and she only ever burned.

But this is what would be her downfall.** Never **be predictable to the enemy. And that was exactly what I was, and she sure as hell knew it.

Because you don't just fuck over your kids life and expect them to love you--ever. You should expect them to channel all their hatred and pain into hoping you die a horrible death. At least that's what I've been doing these past seven year's.

If there was anything she actually liked in this godforsaken world, it was her cat Muffy. I hated that cat almost as much as I hated my mom. That damn cat was as much her pet as I was her son.

It was more of her sidekick in making sure my life was complete hell at all times. If my mom was in the other room and couldn't see me, the cat would follow me around and make a yowling racket if I did anything wrong.

I'm pretty damn sure it would mostly just screech to see me get in trouble, even if I hadn't done shit. That cat loathed me, as I did it. So it's only normal that even these day's I have a natural aversion to felines.

So one extremely luminous day, I put my plan into action. My mom had donned her brown bikini that she'd bought from Goodwill for a dollar. Her fat rolls bounced as she swung me into the counter by my ear, and warned me that Muffy would be watching my every move. Then after feeding Muffy some very expensive cat food that could have probably bought me new sneakers, she strode out the door and shut it behind her smartly.

The time started running, and I knew I only had a limited amount of it before she came back, so I put my plan into action.

Muffy was gazing at me with her lips smacking together in an appreciative way, somehow I knew she was mocking me. I took a deep breath and pretended to be nice," Hey there pretty kitty Muffy. Want some more food? I'll give some to you if you be nice and follow me kay?"

Her hatred for me was strong, but her love for food was even stronger, so when I walked into the TV room with another can, she followed faithfully. I set the can on the floor directly under the fan. Muffy sauntered over like she owned the place and started gorging herself. I hated that cat, but I didn't want to be a killer, I really didn't.

That sounds weird, right? Mercy for the thing that was on my moms side and ratted me out as many times as I can remember. Yeah, damn me and my heart, too bad I don't have one.

I grabbed the animal by her tail, making sure to not get scratched by her now flailing claws, and tied her walking chain to it securely. Then, while keeping a safe distance from the claws, I tied her onto the fan and turned the fan setting to medium. I watched in morbid fascination as she squealed with distress. I had almost forgotten this was when I was supposed to be making my grand escape.

My mom raced in when she heard the commotion, all red faced and slurring from to much of the drink. She cursed me when she saw the cat, she was so drunk she didn't think to stop the fan before trying to get the cat down, so she was having a hard time.

I felt she needed to know it was me, and that she should see me one last time before I left.

I cleared my throat soflty, she looked over at me with her red bulging eyes. The last words she spoke to me were-

" I swear to everything holy in this world kid! When I get the damn cat down you're in for a world of hurt!" Her voice rose to a screeching wail, mingling with the cats, " I FUCKING SWEAR TO GOD I'M GOING TO CUT YOUR THROAT KID!"

I stood and waited for her to finish, when she finally did I told her what I knew were going to be my own last words to her. But instead of shouting them, I said them slowly and clearly," Well, good for me there is no such thing in this world as a God." I looked up and smirked for the first time in my life (but without any true humor) ,"Fuck you mother, I hope you rot in the pits of hell. I know hell is real, because it spit you out."

The last thing I saw before I turned and ran as fast as I could out the door, was my moms red face steadily turning a nice shade of puce.

I ran for a long time. I ran until I made it to the next town over, where I used the money I'd stolen from one of my sisters secret stashes and bought a bus ticket to the city. That's where I ended up blowing a "man" with pink hair for food. But better than the hell I'd come from, that was all I could think.

One day while I was trying to sneak into a back alley without getting caught by the restaurant owner (once again,) I ran into Zexion.

You might think I mean fugitively, like he walked up to me and asked if I wanted to come over for crumpets and tea, but no. I was trying so hard not to get caught I hadn't been watching my front and had run smack dab into dear old Zexion's back.

Now it might not've been such a big deal if we hadn't been next to trash cans. I dunno if anyone understands just how loud those bastards are when you knock em' over, but they could brake sound waves with the racket they make.

Anyways, so Zexion is sitting on my chest looking half confused, half pissed off; which isn't a very cute expression by the way. Half your face scrunches into an angry look, while the other half looks slightly innocent. So you end up with someone who looks pissed off in an innocent way…which is just an unnatural thing in itself.

The owner ran out and rampaged about how that was the last straw and he was goin to get his gun…yadda yadda, fuck me sideways. He used that threat on me every chance he could, but he'd never gone through with it…until that day.

I think he went bat shit insane when he saw Zexions hair. His hair was _purple_ and cut in an emo style-yeah you know the type. The type of guy who always has his bangs in his face and every five seconds has to flip his 'em just so he can see who the fuck is talking to him. But the thing is, I've learnt the true secret behind it all.

I'm not sure I understand why the hell they do it, but I noticed that when Zexion thought no one was looking he'd stealthily nudge his hair back over his eyes, just to flip it away when people looked. Yeah I don't get it either, but what the hell ever man, we all got our hobbies or whatever you'd call _that._

So besides that. His hair is crazy purple, and mine is flaming red. Put those together and you have an explosion of color, too much for anyone's sensitive eyes. I can almost imagine the fat pizza maker running around clutching at his face yelling, "Nooo! My slutty eyes!" But he wouldn't say that, because that's only something I would say, and the reason he said that in my mind is because he was in my mind at that time and….

What was I talking about?

So our hair combination was most likely what set him off. When he left to go get the gun I reassured Zexion, who was still perched on my chest, that he was joking. But six seconds later he returned, grease stains and all, with his shotgun aimed at **my** head.

Now really, that's just fucked up. I wasn't the only one who was in the vicinity, now was I? What about emo boy with the purple hair who was on top of me? Sure, I'd all but thrusted him into the cans, but still. Where's the fucking justice for us red heads? Just because we get chucked into the category of having short tempers and being dangerous, (not to mention sexy as hell, well, me at least) **because** of our red hair, doesn't mean we deserve to be the first chosen to be shot at.

But apparently it does, because that's exactly what he did. He shot at my arm, I still have a gash where it grazed my elbow; pretty kickass.

While we were running, I couldn't help but think this was all my moms fault. She was the one who gave me the damndable hair in the first place. This was just her way of showing me she could still torment me, even from great distances. Bitch.

So we finally stopped a few blocks away from the crazy pizza man, practically wheezing from our sprinting. That, for me was probably from all the smoking I did. Whenever I had the chance to steal one, anywhere, I'd do it, because cigs gave me a calm almost nothing else did.

Who cares if they were cancer sticks that would shorten ones life and make it even more uncomfortable than it would've been originally? Fuck happiness from people or love, or **living** even. Living sucked how I'd done it so far, so whatever was handed out to me for smoking, I'd gladly take it. Haha, I still smoke. It's been seven and a half years since I started, I'll probably die from a heart attack from walking up the stairs soon. Oh well, I still stick by what I said back then.

After we got our bearings, we introduced ourselves, he was Zexion Ienzo. I pointed out that his last name was just scrambled and rearranged without the X. He told me he didn't have a last name, so he'd made his own.

When I queried as to why he didn't have a last name I didn't expect an answer, after all we all have our dirty little secrets we don't wish to discuss. I was sure he was the same. But he surprised me by saying, cool as you fucking please in his little brooding emo voice, " It's because I don't have a real family. I live in a foster home because my dad threw me out, so I went there."

Hmm, I'd thought, foster home? I'd heard the word on TV but I'd never actually been able to listen long enough without getting beaten around the head for "enjoying myself."

I'd asked him to continue on about what that was, and he told me all about it. I won't bore you all with the details because I'm hella sure you were brought up with an inkling of an education, unlike moi.

It sounded like a place too good to be true. I asked him if I went along with him, if they'd drag me back to my mother. He told me no, they'd never dragged him back, and he'd been living there since he'd been nine years old. I never asked why he lived there, and he didn't ask me why I wanted to live there. But I did find out why, years later. His dad had conducted some kind of underground child porn, and Zexion had starred in a few. Once Zexion was suitably "broken" at nine, he was thrown out. But he'd somehow made his way to the home, and gotten help soon after.

When we arrived I met the foster mother, she told me her name was Tifa Lockheart. She had the biggest tits you'd ever seen, that was my first thought (come on, I was thirteen!) She acted tough, and she was. If any of the parents ever came to try to force the kids back with them, she'd just punch a hole in the wall, and they'd leave. ( Which was dumb because then I'D be the one to patch it up--does it look like this body could do that shit? Yeah, I can see it in your eyes, you're thinking fuuuuuuuuck no.)

Her two helpers were Aerith Gainsborough and Rikku Kaus. If Tifa had the largest boobs you've ever seen, Aerith had the greenest eyes. They're like…toxic moss or something! Okay so I really can't describe things well, so sue me bitches. She was the kindest out of the two and sneaked me candy as much as possible.

Rikku seemed like she was hopped up on drugs all the time, not those drugs that make you sleepy, but hyper. Those drugs that make you **really** happy, but have you jumping out of you're skin in an almost mania state.

When Tifa asked my name I glanced at Zexion, but he just raised his eyesbrows at me, waiting to hear it too. I never wanted to be associated with my last name again, since it linked me to my past, a past I hated so very much. I decided to take a leaf outta Zexions book…AKA I stole his idea.

"It's Axel m'am. Axel..Lae."

Tifa had raised her eyebrows in suspicion, " Lay? As in 'lay down'?" I realized that was pretty gay sounding, so I changed it, " No, Lae like Lee."

She'd just gazed at me for a moment, glanced at Zexion, and smiled sadly down at me. Without a word those women had taken me in and cared for me like no other human beings had. I think those three, and Zexion, are the closests people I have ever come to loving in my existence.

Did my mother ever come looking for me, you ask? Nah, she never showed up. I don't think she cared enough, not even to find her plaything. I sometimes wonder what she's up too, what my siblings are doing, then I remember I don't give a shit.

But none of this back story is important at all to the story that I'm about to tell you. Yeah, pretty pissed you read it now huh? Axel's sad sob story, didn't wanna hear it didja? Well too damn bad! Hahaa!

So anyways, to begin the **actual** story-

F-U-C-K M-R S-T-R-I-F-E A-N-D H-I-S G-A-Y C-H-O-C-O-B-O H-A-I-R

That's was **he** gets for giving me detention again. The reason he gave me detention in the first place is sitting just above it's etched brother.

E-N-G-L-I-S-H S-U-C-K-S A-N-D M-R S-T-R-I-F-E B-L-O-W-S--L-I-T-E-R-A-L-L-Y.

I swear that fucking guy has it out to get me, he's given me detention three times already this week. Whatever, I stuck gum in his pencil sharpener, so screw him.

I'm currently sitting in Senior English class, dawdling my time by carving this stuff into my desk. Not where you expected little old me to be huh? I mean I completely understand and all, I mean I **am** nineteen fucking years old. Let me tell you, this isn't exactly where I thought I'd be either. I'm supposed to be at the beach fucking lazing around like the bum I am. But nooo, Tifa just had to get me held back.

When she'd seen my senior report card, she'd all but castrated my ass. Zexion, that smartass, had come home with almost straight A's, save one B in art. Yeah I thought that was pretty weird too. How do you get a B in fucking art of all classes? But he'd just shrugged in his moody way and replied that the teacher wouldn't let him express himself in his own way. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean.

So Tifa looks at all my F's and freaks out to the first degree. My ear took two days to return to normal after that one. So she said if I was going to act like a child and take no responsibility for my actions, she would. So that is why I am retaking my Senior year of high school.

I guess I could've threatened to move out, but she would have known it was empty. I have nowhere to go, and without at least a high school diploma, you're seen as shit in this world. Not that I wouldn't be seen as shit anyways, but I digress.

So while I'm here, (again) Zexion is busy at the local college, smarting it up with all the other people who graduated with him. But I'm not lonely or anything, even though he did leave me with absolutely no one to smoke with in between classes. Not that he ever did anyways, he just watched.

Apparently that would make me a Super Senior then? I've always wanted to wear a cape and woosh around like superman, or wonder woman cause she's pretty awesome.

But really, don't get me wrong boys and girls. I'm not a dumb ass, I'm sure you can tell from all the big words I've used in this-teehee. But I just don't care about school. That's all. I don't give a fuck.

If I could go through life without having to have had gone one second through this abomination, I would have. Because I don't think they teach anything of use in school. Like most of math for instance- Bob wants to give pens to his co-workers. There are 15 pens five red pens and ten blue pens. A certain number of people want red and the other want blue…Yadda fuckin blah.

Wanta know what I'd do in this Bob guys situation? I'd tell all my co-workers to shut the fuck up, and take whatever pen their picky ass happens to lay their hands on first. There doesn't need to be any retarded math problem to tell you how to deal with that shit.

Anyfuckinways…

I was busy doodling random curse words on a paper (one of my favorite past times) when Meester Strife strolls to the front of the class and announces that it's Word Of The Day Time.

Yeah, there's another thing. What the fuck is up with **that **too? No one give a damn what the word of the day is…it's just a waste of everybody's valuable, or not so valuable depending on who you are, time. If you're a geek like Roxas, then you have no problem with wasting your time for something as trivial as a word of the day.

Later on I realized how truly wrong I was about Roxas. He wasn't just someone you can jusge so easily like I did back then. But I was a thick headed mother fucker set in my ways. What do you want an apology? I already gave him one, that of which benefited the both of us…

Ahem, any whosher.

Every single fucking day he get's up and tells us the word of the day, but he doesn't even do it with excitement, like you'd expect from someone who proudly **volunteered **for the job. Not only that, but he's the one who came up with the idea in the first place. When he gets up to tell us the days word he always looks like the word is going to be everyones doom, and we should take it seriously.

Yeah, kid? I don't take anything serious, much less one fuckin word so screw off.

So, like usual, he trudged over to the front of the class with his gigantic dictionary in hand, holding it like it was the bible or some shit. He never looks anyone in the eyes, just gives our desks that -DOOM- look and tells us the word, definition, and sits right on down. Today was different for some reason though, and I'm not sure why he did it.

He pushed his glassed back up to their perch, seems they'd fallen off from the sweat that had accumulated on his shnoz. Instead of looking at our desks, he looked at me. He looked straight at me with this fucking unrecognizable look blazing in his eyes. Like he was trying to convey some very important message with eye to eye resuscitation or some crap.

He opened the dictionary, but that was just for looks, he never had to look at it, he had all of that tome memorized. He kept gazing at me when he gave us the word and definition-"Forlorn: sad and lonely because deserted, abandoned, or lost."

I don't know why but I kinda snapped when I realized why he'd been staring at me with that intense stare. I freaked out, got really pissed off, more than usual anyways.

Who the hell does this kid think he is? He doesn't know me for shit, so that sure as hell doesn't give him the right to fucking judge me.

So I jumped up, not noticing the surprised looks on the usually bored faces of my classmates. I jumped up and lurched myself on top of the geek with the scruffy blond hair and the glasses.

It wasn't a graceful lurch either, though how anyone would ever be able to get graceful outta a word like that, I dunno. It was me shaking and shivering with my rage and my hatred for this kid, I really did hate him right then. So I lurched over on him and tried to rip his face from his skull.

What I didn't realize at the time was that the kid was just seeing my pain for what it really was. I **was** lonely, I **did** feel deserted.

And not just from Zexion, or whatever. But from humanity itself, no one had ever cared enough for the malnourished boy with crazy red hair. That's why I didn't realize the kid wasn't insulting me, he was trying to show me he understood me, and that he wanted to help.

If I wasn't being such an idiot, what with beating up the only kid who'd ever showed a possible sign of wanting to be friends with me, I might've realized that that was the moment I first started falling in love with little, geeky Roxas.

Hah, isn't it funny how just one word can change how everything is?

Yep, that there would be my **life **kiddies.

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I was working on Zombie Lips and I glanced at the "50 odd" list, and my eye landed on dictionary. So I got the whole ending in my mind, the whole word of the day scenario.But when I sat down to write it was just a big long ass story about Axel, then that. To be honest, as cliche as it sounds, this story wrote itself!

Well I hope you guys liked that. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue or not, so I guess we'll see. If I do continue, I dunno if I'll change POV or not. I kinda like writing from Axel's, I feel like I know him more. But, once again, we'll see.

Please review, it might just make my decision on whether I'll continue or not. Haha, yeah I hope this doesn't sound like bribing--(eventhoughitis!)


	2. Conundrum

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, nor do I own the characters within.

Yay, Roxas's back story this time! But don't worry, half is from Axel's POV as well. It's like an ice cream swirl! But who's chocolate and who's vanilla? ( And yes, I will be adding a pre-song to Axels chapter at a later late)

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_**There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses.**_

_**It's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses.**_

_**At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains.**_

_**And a few more of your least favorite things.**_

_**P!ATD**_

Roxas's Log of daily occurrences-

"Roxas sweetheart, would you please grab the sugar for me? Only my fat lard of a stomach is making it almost impossible for me to get it."

Which lead my eight month pregnant, and ready to blow, mother to start crying hysterically into her hands.

I immediately jumped up from my position of sitting on the countertop while leafing through my dictionary . Not that I really needed to, I know all the words and their meanings already.

"Mom. In no way, shape, or form are you even the slightest bit fat. It's called being pregnant, if you didn't look the way you did, that would mean something was wrong with the baby, so it's a good thing."

I patted her gently on her bulging belly then grabbed the sugar off the fridge, which was hard even for me to do; seeing as I'm not the tallest guy around.

She stopped sobbing and smiled so large I thought her teeth would go around her face for a moment there. Pregnant women are so unpredictable, it's a bit disturbing.

She kept smiling at me as I handed her the sugar, "Oh thank you hun, and not just for the sugar. I don't know what I would do without you!"

She set the sugar down on the table and grabbed me up in an uncomfortable hug. It wasn't awkward because I didn't like getting attention from her. Actually I'm quite the momma's boy, so I love getting hugs from the only person who makes me feel worthwhile. It was awkward because of her stomach, which is currently holding my soon to be born step-brother.

Yep, my step-brother, feh. Don't get me wrong, I already love the kid, even though I've yet to meet him. It's just…

My mom and dad got divorced when I was nine years old, eight years ago. They told me the reason was because they just didn't feel the same way they had when they'd first met. I know the genuine reason though.

I'd fallen asleep under the kitchen table, again, while perusing my much loved dictionary. I woke up to the sounds of hushed giggling, two male tones. I groggily wiped the drool that had escaped my mouth and looked up to ask my father why he was kissing another person. Not another woman, but a man.

For reasons unknown to me even to this day, I didn't scream at him, I didn't try to make myself known at all. I just sat their, clutching to my beloved dictionary like it was all just a fabricated dream. The only thing that ran through my head while I watched my father caress this mans face was, _this isn't real, dad isn't kissing another man, he's not cheating on mom. There's no reason for him to be. NOT REALNOTREAL._

I remember biting my lip so hard that I could taste the blood pooling in my mouth. The coppery salt taste shook me out of my stupor and I silently ran up to my room, where I proceeded to jump under the covers and roll myself into a ball. For the remainder of the night, I sat in a numb delusion.

I kept telling myself that they were simply giving each other goodbye kisses. I'd seen my mother peck her girlfriends on the cheeks after their book club ended. But my father had been using his tongue and mouth. Still I refused to relent to the irrevocable truth that laid itself before me. Like I said before, I was seriously delusional.

Over the next days, weeks, months even, I acted as if I'd seen nothing. Childishly I hoped not allowing myself to believe it had happen would make it the truth. But gradually I saw the strain of my parents relationship progress until the day they took me aside to tell me they simply "didn't feel the same way as before."

They'd forgotten to mention my dad was abandoning my mom and I for another man. They decided to leave out the fact that my father was a selfish bastard who only cared for himself.

He came around for awhile. He'd show up to my birthdays and the occasional spelling bee's that I would be in. Then, increasingly, he would show up extremely late. Then he started to only show up once in a blue moon, then the visits stopped completely.

My mom tried to shield me from the pain this induced. She'd make up outlandish lies as to why he wasn't present anymore. His car had broken down, he had a tooth that needed to be filled, he fell off a ladder. And my all time favorite, he had to go to the gynecologist.

I don't think my mom is dumb, but that was quite hard to restrain laughing at and making her feel the fool.

I'd like to believe if he showed up today that I'd be able to go up to him and punch him right in his face, but that's just me lying to myself. What I really think I would do if he returned is run up to him and tell him about myself. I'd ask him if he was proud of the smart man I'd become.

I would also like to think he'd say he was proud of me, but let's face it, who could possibly be proud of a _nobody_ like me? He would take one look at my unruly hair, glasses, and still toted around dictionary, and run the opposite direction. I'm just not someone a person can be proud of. Heck, _I'm_not even proud of myself.

My dad played every sport there was when he was in high school. He got along with every single person in the halls, teachers included. He charmed everyone with the blue eyes I'd inherited from him. He was the star player of his basketball team, hockey team, and soccer team.

When I'd been a Freshman, all the teachers and coaches simply _gushed_with enthusiasm when they read my last name. They dismissed my aloof behavior as first day jitters, and had proceeded to force me to humiliate myself by trying to do the things my dad had.

Thing is, I inherited my mom's coordination, or lack thereof. After knocking out a few people with a volleyball, they figured that just wasn't my sport. But after injuring myself, and others, in every other sport, they decided that my dad's superb genes hadn't been passed onto me. Then they just ignored me like everyone else always did.

It's not like I don't want friends. I hate being the loner, the geek of the school. Whenever partners in class ,or P.E, are picked I am always chosen as the last resort.

Now anything related to dexterity I can understand, but why is it that I am shunned when it comes to mental tasks?

I'm exceptional in all classes, especially English class. I have all A's and a 4.0 grade point average. The kids should be lining up for me to offer help, but the thing is, they aren't. I've never had a friend in all my years of school, not one. I believe the reason is because I lack a set social skills, and also because of my appearance.

My mother say's I am an introvert who is too timid to speak to others . She explained the reason was because I am a genius. I believe that to be completely ludicrous by the way. I am nothing compared to Albert Einstein, whom she said I reminded her of.

She explained that many brilliant people have a hard time communicating well with others. Because of their high level of thought processing most people feel intimidated when talking to smart people.

She says it's a wonderful thing that I'm so smart, and all the better that I don't talk to other people, because they'll just get in my way and bring me down. Down from _what _exactly? Besides, I _have _attempted to make friends, but it's they whom hate me.

In every high school, you will find that the way you look reigns supreme over most anything else. Who cares if you have the personality of a oiled robot, as long as you have the most up to date clothing?

You walk around my school, you will find people wearing name brand _socks_**.** Does that tell you what kind of place it is? And it's only the public school, just think of what the private schools are like. I shudder at the thought.

While they are outfitted in socks that could buy me quite a few dictionaries, I wear nothing special whatsoever. My mom and step-father try their hardest to keep a roof over our head's, they've no time for something as frivolous as clothing. You can usually find me wearing threadbare white shirts, hand-me-downs from my step-father.

He's no lightweight so they hang off me in a very unflattering fashion, but it's all we've got. I wear jeans that are also quite baggy, but I am able to lessen my tripping over them by tying rope around my waist. If my mom knew I used rope as a belt, she would most likely be angry, we could probably afford to buy a nice belt. I'm merely trying to save as much money as possible, with a baby on the way we need all the extra money we can allow ourselves.

My socks are definitely not designer, if I wear them at all. It's not that we have a shortage of them, I just dislike wearing them, and I go without if at all possible. Actually I dislike shoes as well, and if it weren't a rule I wouldn't wear those either.

So to sum myself up, I look like quite the dope. Add on my dirty blonde hair that is in a constant state of disarray, and you've got a winner! I usually wake up extremely late in the mornings, so I have no time to brush through my tangled locks. I've gotten so used to not brushing it that I usually forget even when I've the time.

The reason that I sleep in so often is because I am an insomniac. No I don't stay up late making genius inventions, or the such. I stay up because, to put it simply--I really am just unable to fall asleep easily.

Usually I'll just read through my dictionary, or stare out the window at the stars and the lady moon. When I am sucked of my ability to sleep through to the late hours, I'll start daydreaming; mostly ridiculous things.

Sometimes I'll see myself reuniting with my father, but with good outcomes. He'll come back and start living with us again, never mind mom's already married to another man.

Or I'll dream I'm a courageous knight who must fight off evil things to save the poor townsfolk. Sometimes I get a flash of myself fighting with a rather large key-?

I'm sure that's just my brain telling me in a offbeat way that making friends is the key to happiness.

Because of these late night squanders I have developed slight bags under my eyes, they aren't very noticeable though. However, I'm sure that doesn't add to the charm of my overall look.

But look at this! I've gotten very off topic, not what I was going to say to you at all. I'm sure you don't want to hear my dreary life's story.

For year's it was just my mother and I, living on our own. It was hard, with just her paying for everything. Though I got a job as a newspaper boy, it barely contributed too the money we needed at all.

When she started dating, I was not a very pleasant child to deal with. I treated all of them with utmost hatred and disrespect. I didn't want them breaking up what family I had left. We had little, but live we did, and _without_ the help of any replacement.

That's when she met her current husband. I had been out of town for a school paid trip to New York when she met him. I wasn't able to hook into him like I'd done for the others. By the time I returned she was deeply in love, and visa versa for him.

I could see how happy he made her, so I decided to let her keep just this one beau. I figured they'd get tired of each other rather quickly, and all would be well again. But I hadn't calculated that he would get her pregnant, and that they'd become married.

For awhile I abhorred the man with all my being. He was tearing me and my mother apart after all! But after a while, I got used to him. He was quite kind, and very nice to my mother. He was respectable, and worked hard to keep her and I healthy and happy.

It's not that large of an affair that he's replaced my father, he's been a much better one than that idiot had ever been. What I'm really afraid of is that this new child, this new _boy_ that is currently growing inside of her, will be the one to replace _me._

I know I'm being rather silly, but can't you see it from my point of view?

I was knocked back into the current time when my mother threw a brown lunch bag in my direction. I have an extremely slow reaction time, so by the time I'd staggered off the chair to catch it, the bag had already hit the ground.

My mom turned around at the sound of her freshly made lunch hitting the floor. She smiled slightly at my guilty face. "Sorry, I forgot that you've got my reaction time hun. Ahem. Well you'd better hurry along, don't wanna be late now."

For an eight month pregnant woman she sure moved fast, I was barley able to get a good hold on my dictionary before she moved . She grabbed my lunch, put it in my hands, and all but flung me out the door. As she closed the door behind me she called, "Don't get in any trouble now!" She tittered like it was the funniest thought in the world, me getting into any type of trouble, and closed the door.

As I ran to school, seeing as I was late again, I thought of something very peculiar that I had been noticing recently. I suppose "something" is rather a rude thing to say. The better thing would be some_one_.

I've noticed that one Axel Lae has been looking rather down as of lately. Ever since his purple haired friend graduated and went on without him, he seems to care even less about things than usual. Just yesterday he got the second detention of the week from Professor Strife, not that he didn't deserve it, he'd said some pretty ghastly things to the professor.

No one notices what I do anymore, so I've been able to overhear when people come to the back of the class to have private conversations. They don't see me, so they figure they're alone and no one will hear what they are saying. I know most of the secrets of this school, not that I really care about the petty happenings in my classmates lives.

For instance.

Namine, the head cheerleader, told her friends that she had informed her parents that Tidus, her former boyfriend, had gotten her pregnant. They haven't been going out since last fall however, so he really isn't the father. She informed her friends, right in front of me, that the real father is o, the biology teacher.

I've overheard people talking about killings, and where they hid the bodies. Raping's that have gone on. A girls plans to completely ruin someone's reputation because they flirted with the her boyfriend.

Yes, my high school is almost as good as that show they used to air on television-what was it? The OC I think.

So the point is that I see a lot, but no one knows that I know.

I've started seeing something in Axel that is very reminiscent of what I see in myself. Instead of making fun of the teacher in a playful way when he first enters the classroom, he just lays his head upon the desktop and feints sleep. And when the professor asks him something, instead of a lighthearted jab like usual, he'll lash out.

When he thinks no one is looking, he takes on this face. It's the sort of face you'd expect to see on someone whom have lost their dog. I can tell he's lonely, because when I look in the mirror, that the face I wear.

However, if he knew I can see his pain, I am sure there would be a reckoning. Axel is the type who puts on the air that he doesn't care much for anything. You can do whatever you please, and he could care less. He doesn't like to show anyone his weaknesses, no matter how minute they are.

Seeing as how he's so touchy on the subject of people knowing how he feels, what I have planned to do this morning is probably not all that genius of me. But I have to try, I want him to know that I understand what he's going through. The loneliness he feels can be fixed if he let's me in.

I was going through the plan in my mind again when Demyx rode up next to me on his bicycle. Demyx and I go way back, he's the only friend I've ever had in my life. We've known each other since birth because his mom and mine are very good friends. He's the only one I told the actual reason for my parents divorce. He doesn't scorn me for having a lack of social skills either. If I'm having a hard time speaking with him, he just slaps me on the back and laughs it off.

My life would be much better if he went to my public school, but he doesn't. His parents deemed it right that he should go to a musically gifted private school. He's played the sitar ever since I can remember; I'm almost certain he'll become famous one day from his talent.

He slugged me on the shoulder and asked me with a sarcastic tone, " So dear Rooooxaaaaas," he's always drawls my name because it annoys me, " what's the word of the day _today?!"_

I'm usually unable to play around with anyone, so it's refreshing when Demyx is around. He makes me feel like a halfway normal teenage boy, he doesn't know it, but I really appreciate him for it.

"Repulsive: distasteful or unpleasant to look at. Used in a sentence-Demyx should get an attractive haircut, because his current one is repulsive."

I tried to hold back my laughter when I heard his tires squeal loudly as he braked. For a moment he stood there gasping like someone who had just resurfaced from the water without air for a long amount of time. Then he was riding next to me again, and agitated look on his face.

"You know Roxas ,for someone with a rats nest like yours, I don't think you have reason to make fun of me."

He leaned over and tousled my hair to prove his point, then he smacked the side of my head lightly for the jab. My blonde locks _are _rather disheveled today, more so than usual anyway.

"An adequate retort my friend. I am ,however, disappointed that you had to resort to violence to establish you're side. That's barbaric reasoning at most."

He snorted and waved as he turned the corner where his school was located; I still had a few blocks to go. He's used to the way I talk, so he doesn't get overly confused when arguing with me.

When I finally made it to school I had two minutes to spare, just enough time to make it to class. I headed into the English classroom with all the other stragglers who were also late, but for much different reasons than mine. Most likely they were getting in a last minute smoke.

I sat in my desk just as the bell rang. I glanced over at the fiery ball of hair that was currently drooling (already) on a desk far away from mine. I had never felt so nervous in my entire existence. Would he be annoyed at me? Happy? _Sad?_

I had no idea what was going to happen, but I figured that he wouldn't be too angry. At least I hoped not.

We went through our usual morning rituals before I stood up with my dictionary and stood at the front of the class. I could feel the dubious look overcome my face.

Axel raised his head to look at me with a completely neutral expression, like he didn't care. Which, I am sure, he didn't.

I wanted to see some emotion on his face. _Something_ to show that he was still alive on the inside. So I did something I'd never done before. I stared him straight in the eyes and tried to convey all the emotions I was feeling. Understanding, because I could tell he was having a hard time with being alone. Friendship, because I knew he needed someone. But most of all, sadness. Because I knew, more than anyone, what he was going through.

I could see the confusion in his eyes, the puzzlement. I hoped he would understand soon enough.

"Forlorn: sad and lonely because deserted, abandoned, or lost."

There. I had done it.

I felt I had made good work of the job. He didn't seem to be to angry. He only had a concentrated look on his face, like he was thinking of something very hard. That was before he pounced me and tried to tear my throat from my neck.

I should've known it wouldn't be that easy with Axel. He was like a pacing panther, just waiting for a reason to blow up and get some blood on his hands.

Good thing I had very large amounts of patients.

So far.

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Axel- Screwed up, Bi-polar Diary of a Madman.

You like my Diary title? I saw Roxas decided he was important enough to deserve a title, so I sure as hell get one too. But I much, much cooler. And diary is SO not gay! Screw all you who say it is. …yeah.

Before the whole "Word of the day" incident, I'd never so much as glanced at Roxas.

Well, there **was **the one time when I was trying to go to the pisser and he just so happened to be in my way. I told him to move, or I would be forced to relocate his face elsewhere.

Actually, that's the polite version. I don't like people who lie, and I hate **myself **if I do it, so I'll tell you the actual words.

"Get the fuck outta my way whatever you are, or I'm gonna piss all over your shoes. OR I could just rip your pretty little face from your skull if you'd prefer."

Hah, thinking back on that, it's pretty damn ironic what I threatened him with. It's like I foreshadowed my own future, intermingled with his. Hum. Intermingle, sounds like something you'd link with an orgy.

Don't look at me like that…Yeah? Well, fuck you too.

Anybloodyway--

So now I'm staring at Roxas ,The Dictionary Freak, in the infirmary. He's sitting in the furthest corner from me, still holding his damn bible tome tightly in his hands. I don't see why he's still got it, because in my anger I ripped most of the pages in it.

When I'd pounced on the kid, I'm absolutely sure no one was ready for it. Not Roxas, not Meester Strife, not even the god damn Tooth Fairy. And to be perfectly fucking frank, I dunno if I was even expecting myself to do it.

Usually I have supreme control over myself; sure I'll get in a few jabs to bastards who piss me off, but I don't go too far. I don't want, or need, the attention that comes with being a "tough guy". So when Roxas read that damn word, I really didn't mull over the fact that I might possibly be about to maul the kid. I figured, maybe after class, I'd slap him around a little. But then I thought about the whole fucking pitying look he'd given me, and I snapped.

I'd given him a nice busted lip, a black eye, and some lovely scratched on the cheeks to complete the whole look; I hadn't been without injury either. After I'd tore his precious book from his hands and ripped quite a few of the pages, he'd grabbed a pen from the teachers desk and tried to stab me. Fucking **stab** me!

I dunno about you, but when someone tries to end your existence with a pen because you ripped pages in their dictionary, that means they're a little on the loopy side. Okay, so **I **tried to rip his face off for saying a few words, but I wasn't gonna kill 'em! At least I don't think I was…

He might've succeeded in ending my life too, if Strife hadn't come to his spiky senses and dragged the kid offa me. Roxas did manage to slash a minor cut in my bicep though, damn kid.

I find that funny, the whole Roxas being dragged off of me bit. I attack his ass, but he get's thrown off me. Does that say something too you?

No? Okay.

After that we both were manhandled down to the infirmary, none to gently by the way, to get our injuries looked over. Strife left to go talk to the principal; and there is no doubt in my mind he's pressing his hardest to get me kicked outta this fucking school. He thinks that's the worst thing he could do to me? HAH. I could fucking scoff at that shit.

In reality, if he did get me expelled, that would be him doing me a favor. I'd be able to leave this shit hole finally, with no worries. The only reason I even lug myself here, day after fucking day, is because Tifa asked me too. Now you'd expect me to not give a damn what she thinks right? Because I'm all cold hearted and shit? Well I am cold hearted, that's true, but what reason do I have to fuck over someone who's only done well by me?

She took me in, with no gain on her part but a fucked up kid, and has kept me ever since. She's paid for my food, clothes, schooling. I like Tifa, she seems almost infallible to me, like a female version of the Hulk. Only she's got boobs...lots of boobs. And she's not green, although whenever she drinks too much vodka she turns an awesome she of olive before she throws up.

But my **point**is that if going to high school will make her happy, I'll do it. But I won't strive to get good grades...at all. Why? Like I said before, I don't give a shit; and if Tifa does, I guess that sucks ass for her. I'm not gonna change how I am, or what I want, for anyone. Not even her.

But really? I know if I got expelled she'd still allow me to live at the foster home, because she's just too kind for her own good. Sure the place is loaded to the brim with brats, but she would still figure out a way for me too stay. I know that would make it hard on her, let one kid stay who isn't doing shit, while another needs a place to be able to get off the streets. In the case of expulsion, I wouldn't put that on her shoulders, I'd leave for her consciences sake.

Zexion on the other hand…

Yeah, I'd go bug the shit outta the guy till he let me kick it at his dorm room. Force his roommate too fall in love with me, and all would be well.

I heard a cough in the vicinity of where I'd seen Roxas last. I glanced over to where he was sitting, hunched over his book. Even after getting a good beating because of the damn thing, he's **still **looking through the book!

And he not doing it because it's just something to get the impending expulsion offa his mind either; I can tell. He's acting way too nonchalant to even seem like he's worried, the little ass.

He's hunched over his book, but in an overly relaxed way. His eyes are roving across the pages with an intense stare, like he's looking for something. He even has a little smile on his effing face!

If there's anything that annoys me, it's that. He's acting calmer than I am, and that's just not something that happens. I'm always the calm in the eye of the storm, never getting angry. Well, expect for that little tiff back there, which doesn't count anyway cuz he flew off the handle too.

The other thing is he's ignoring me like none other. I've been glaring holes into the back of his shaggy hair for the past ten minutes. It really irritates me when people ignore my obvious attempts to blow up their brain with my eyes alone. Not everyone can do that ya know.

The damn nurse still hadn't come, so I figured she wouldn't come meandering through the door anytime soon. Time to get a reaction from this fucking kid.

" Hey, blondie!"

He merely glanced up at me for a moment and then turned back to his book. Well lets see if he can ignore **this.**

"You've got a pretty terrible aim kid. If I were the one trying to stab me, I woulda gone straight for the heart. You know, get the job done right and all of that shit?"

That did it. He started and turned around with disgust on his face. I smiled with grim satisfaction and waited for the tentative remark that was sure to come outta his mouth.

"I wasn't trying to **kill** you, you imbecile. I was only trying to stab you into incapacitation so you would be unable to harm myself, or my belongings, any further."

I raised my eyebrows at the word "imbecile." So he wanted to pretend to be big and bad with long words and insults did he?

"**Fuck** you kid."

He snorted and saved his place with a dirty piece of cloth that seemed to have come out of no where.

"Now, aren't you the most mature man I've ever met. Only a simple minded person would have responded with such a derogative insult. It's apparent that you had no ready comeback, so instead of making a fool of yourself with a word such as that," He wrinkled his nose in dislike ,"you should have simply kept your mouth **shut.**"

Say what?! Who the hell does this kid think he is?

Instead of jumping up and continuing in my earlier throttling of him, I coolly acted like his comments didn't effect me. Even though they had, the little bastard.

"What's so bad about the word **FUCK** kid? I think it's a pretty kick ass word myself."

He shook his head and then spoke like I was some damn two year old he was potty training," It makes you sound like a troglodyte."

GOD DAMN IT! How dare him, he thinks he can just talk about me like that?!

"Ummm…What the fuck is that?

He smirked in a triumphant way, like he'd just proved a point. Which he had NOT. Not at all.

I was just about to show him how great the word fuck was if used in the terms of "Fucked up," when Strife came back and we all calmly shuffled into the principles office. Well, more like Roxas calmly shuffled. I more or less mocked Strife by whispering crude things behind his back the whole way. Haha, but he couldn't catch me doing it because I'm such a pirate-ninja

And YES you can be both at once. Fuck all the naysayer's, I do whatever the hell I want. BECAUSE I'm a pirate-ninja.

We walked into the principals office and sat down in squishy chairs placed side by side. You would think the chairs would be hella comfy, but they just gave me the feeling that my ass was being eaten by a bloodhounds face or some shit.

Strife was, of course, was playing sentry behind my chair. I think because he sucked so much as a human being and a teacher, he needed to take all his anger out on other people who gave him even a bit of trouble. Just so he could bring himself up onto a pedestal.

I fidgeted with the cuff of my shirt for a moment before Principal Xemnas turned from the papers stacked obsessive compulsively on his desk, and addressed us.

And by the way, people really do call him Xemnas, not because they don't respect him( notice I am not in the they portion) but because he's never told anyone his real name. I suspect the reason is because it's horrifying and extremely embarrassing. I'm thinking along the lines of Xemnas Tiddlywinks.

" I'm sure you two know the reason why you were brought to my office?"

Noooooooo, we figured we were here to help you build you're very own candy land, which you will call "Tiddlywinks Gardens."

But I didn't **really **say that. Pity.

We both nodded. He glared at me for a moment before turning to Roxas. " Roxas, I am very disappointed in you. You have a 4.0 GPA, and have never caused any trouble. Why start now? You're a genius, I can't understand why you'd risk getting into an Ivy League school for this."

He pointed at me when he said "this." Well didn't that make me feel just so special?

Before Roxas could mumble out an apology I interrupted with a wise voice. " There's a thin line between genius an insanity, ya know."

Roxas glared at me, and Xemnas looked at me with extreme disapproval. FUCK YOU BOOOOTH.

"As for you young man. You were held back for inattention, and a clear lack of care. You are obviously going to go nowhere in life if you keep up this act."

Glad to see **someone** believed in me.

"So, you will be punished."

He made a dramatic pause and glanced between the two of us, and at Strife. I looked at Roxas outta the corner of my eye. He looked nervous as hell. Looked like Xemnas hadn't been lying when he'd said the kid'd never done shit.

He didn't really have anything to worry about, though. I'd been through this type of crap numerous times before. He'd probably make us say sorry, and hand out some community service or something….

"You two obviously dislike each other. I figure the worst thing I could do to you would be to make you spend lots of time together. Roxas, you have an extremely easy time with school. Axel, you…do not. So as you're punishment, Roxas will tutor you in every subject you take. This will be in effect for as long as I feel it will take for you two to get the message."

…Or not.

Roxas's eyes went extremely wide. He gave me a wild and strained look, like he would rather roll through glass and jump into a pool of alcohol than take this. He started to shake like he'd gone too long without a cocaine jump. Believe me, I know what that looks like.

Fuck, why do I always get stuck with the lunatics?

Oh yeah, because God hates me. Well, the feelings likewise asshole.

* * *

OH MY HECK! I am sooo sorry this took so long. I couldn't think of good ways to continue and then I got busy. And now I'm in school, so we are all pretty much screwed over. I hope you liked this chapter, but it might take awhile for the next one. Damnation! ( BUT I SHALL CONTINUE!) And I really hope this lives up to your expectations.

I think this chapter has a few mistakes, which I will fix a little later on. I just figured I better get this out here before it's readers died of old age.

Also, thank you to all who reviewed last chapter!

Review please, it makes writing easier (and faster) for me.


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